I remember hating the smell of a new sunblock I tried, and vaguely being aware that the way I leaned on the bar caused my stomach to roll over the waistband of my swimsuit.
He was so casual, so blunt, so confident.
“Excuse me,” he said in a tone that let me know that he knew that I’d listen to what he had to say, “I paint nudes. I’d like to paint you.”
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